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Monday, March 28, 2011

There are not many commercials that I'll pause the DVR for but these two Direct TV ones I'll definitely watch over and over. The little giraffe just makes me happy. Check out the PHOTOS area on the Sokoblovsky Farms(*click the link*) website to see what I'm talking about if you don't know.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Recently I’ve been reading Happyendingz - confessions of an erotic masseuse and it’s given me an idea. I’m a “facial specialist”, meaning I give facials. Not FACIALS. I also enjoy getting facials, not FACIALS. (When writing for people that read a whole lotta sex blogs, this could get confusing.) I’m an esthetician, a skin care/facial specialist. Duly licensed and insured, I make the skin, on your face , neck and décolleté look better and stay healthy.

Since the economy tanked, women, who usually get facials, have decided that getting a facial is a luxury (It really isn’t, especially if you want to stay young looking!) so the need for estheticians isn’t very great. Per my usual luck, I finally decide on something I LOVE to do, take out a student loan, go to school, graduate (with honors!) and BAM! can’t find a job. If I were a 20-something just getting out of college, I wouldn’t be too upset because I’d have years to work on getting that dream job. Unfortunately, I don’t have years, which is what lead me to an idea after reading Happy endingz - confessions of an erotic masseuse.

As a licensed esthetician in my state, I can only treat the head, neck and face and also wax all the hairy bits of the body that warrant waxing. I also have a “body wrapping” certificate. That’s for doing body scrubs, exfoliation, moisturizing treatments, aromatherapy, etc. I cannot say that I will “massage” you. I am allowed to apply lotion to the hands, arms and shoulders with “massage like application techniques”. So what if I gave you a traditional facial and then used “massage like application techniques” to give Happy Ending Facials to men? I'd call it The Bunny Tail Facial. There are men who do regularly get facials, although that demographic isn’t very large in my area. But a Happy Ending Facial would surely bring ‘em in, dontcha think?

My service would actually be a huge plus for the women, too. Think of it ladies, your man would come home with clean, glowing skin. His eyebrows, nostrils and ears would be groomed (waxing nostrils and ears is akin to something used during The Spanish Inquisition. Most men will divulge national secrets during a nostril wax! The soothing facial is required after the nose, ear and eyebrow waxing, trust me.) to perfection and he’d be relaxed. I’ll bet he’d take you out to dinner or buy you those diamond earrings! Maybe both, ‘cause I’m THAT good! If he's not married or attached there's a distinct possibility I'll get the diamond earrings and I wouldn't mind that one bit.

I’m actually researching the bylaws to see if there’s any rule against applying lotion/crème “with massage like application techniques” with breasts. I could charge extra for a penis facial done with my boobs! Regular facials go from about $45.00 to $75.00, can you imagine what I could charge for a Bunny Tail Facial avec des Seins? (French. Sounds classy and not at all illegal, doesn’t it?)

Tell me what you think about this idea. Guys, does it sound like something you’d pay for and get at least twice a month?

At 34 years old, I was the baby of the group! Harriet was 31 years older than me. She was a retired New York City high school English teacher. She had never been married, was well read and educated and was also a world traveler. Harriet was also an incredible needlework artist. She was equally adept with cross stitch, needlepoint, hardanger, huck – you name it and if it could be done with a single needle, Harriet was a master of the craft. She was extremely proud of her stitching ability and well she should have been.

Harriet also had the personality of a spinster school teacher, was hard of hearing, a staunch Democrat and could be a royal pain in the ass but she was interesting, kept up with what was going on in the world, read voraciously and was always helpful with stitching, English, history, etc. questions. She also was tiny, about 4' 10” tall. Until I got to know Harriet, I used to wonder how in the hell she could keep control of NYC high school students. Afterward, I had no doubt that Miss. G_______ would have them all by the balls making sure their hearts and minds followed.

by Harriet

Harriet died a couple of weeks ago after suffering two strokes. She had just turned 88. She stitched and read right up until the first stoke she had in January. The following is something that occurred between Harriet and myself that gave her great pleasure.

Each October, our EGA chapter would hold a Tea Cup Auction to raise money for traveling teachers, group projects, etc. We would all donate unfinished items, kits or charts we no longer wanted, supplies, an assortment of things for the auction. Tickets were sold and we'd deposit our tickets in cups in front of the items. If your number was drawn, you won. In 1989, my second or third year in the group, someone had anonymously donated a cross stitched tablecloth. This was one of the old stamped type designs where you just followed the lines and X's with floss. No one put any tickets in the cup for the tablecloth.

The president of the group said if no on wanted it, she'd toss it. I took it because I'm a damn pat rat and figured I could do something with it. It also was obviously stitched with care, so someone had put time and love into it. You can't just throw away a piece stitched with love!

T.C. Bear

I washed the cloth, line dried it in the sun to bleach out some of the age discolorations and then made a teddy bear out of it. At the 1990 auction, I donated the bear. Harriet won the bear and was uncharacteristically overjoyed at winning something that I thought was not an item she would care for. As we were cleaning up, Harriet asked me to come outside with her. She told me in private, that she had made and donated the tablecloth but was embarrassed to say it was hers because it was such a juvenile stitching piece. She went on to say that she was so amazed how the cloth looked transformed into the bear that she wanted it desperately but had only placed one of her tickets in the bear's cup. She felt that it was destiny (again, something out of character for Harriet!) that the bear was to be hers and even more so because I had made it and since she stitched the tablecloth in 1953, the year I was born! You could of knocked me over with a feather! She knew when she stitched it because before she donated it to the auction, she had ripped out her initials and the year that she'd stitched into the hem. Harriet then told the story to the group. We all agreed that the Stitching Fairy Godmother had a hand in what transpired.

A few years later, one of the stitching supply companies was asking for stitching stories that would be funny, touching, sad – whatever, for a book they were publishing. Harriet submitted the story of T.C. Bear (she named him T.C. For tablecloth). The story was published in the book, Harriet was overjoyed.

T.C. Bear

T.C. Bear sat since 1990 in a chair in Harriet's living room right next to her stitching/reading chair. When some mutual friends were cleaning out her apartment after her death, T.C. Bear was given back to me along with a few of Harriet's stitched pieces. T.C. Bear now sits in my sewing/craft/facial room as a reminder that true, wonderful friends come in all shapes, sizes and ages.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Today is THE RED PUMP PROJECT’S National Women and Girls HIV/AIDS Awareness Day. THE RED PUMP PROJECT does great work promoting awareness of HIV/AIDS with a variety of functions around the country.

As with most things that initially horrify, scare and/or concern us, I believe we’ve become apathetic to this HIV/AIDS. Because it isn’t constantly in the news or possibly because we haven’t personally been affected by the disease, we forget that education of our children, our grandchildren and even ourselves is tremendously important.

While great advances have been made in the treatment of HIV/AIDS, there still isn’t a cure. This is not a disease you develop, like cancer or Parkinson’s, it is a transmittable disease that can be prevented. Prevented with knowledge.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Do you think this commercial is funny? I don't. Well, okay. It's a teeny bit funny because it's well done and because I've never had to deal with service calls being outsourced to Russia.

I’ve worked for doctors since 1987. The main part of my jobs has been to wrest money out of tight-as-crabs-asses insurance companies and weepy the-train-ran-over-my-grandmother-I-have-to-go-to-the-funeral-so-I-can’t-pay-you patients. When speaking with patients in Florida, you have about a 70-30 chance of getting someone who doesn’t speak English. Not bad odds considering the high population of ESL residents of the state. It does tend to get on my last nerve, though, when I call a patient or a patient calls me and the conversation opens with, "Habla espanol?" (Um, HELLO! America!)

In order for your insurance claims to be paid, they are coded with CPT (Current Procedural Terminology) numeric codes for the procedures that were done and ICD-9 (International Classification of Diseases) alpha and/or numeric codes for what your diagnosis is. Procedure codes can also have numeric modifier codes to tell the insurance company that a procedure is not related to another, is a repeat procedure, among other things. Just so you know the purpose of your health insurance carrier is to NOT pay your claims. I believe they’ve hired the finest minds from the world’s best think tanks to come up with ways not to pay claims. They are diabolical.

When speaking to insurance companies, your odds of getting someone that not only speaks English but comprehends the language goes down to about 89-11 because in an effort to maintain their enormous profits while increasing your premiums and decimating customer service, the largest insurance companies have decided to outsource their call centers for the maximum inconvenience of their clients and providers.

Voice (in heavily accented English): Thank you for calling United Healthcare, my name is Pam, may I have the contract number you are calling on.

I give Pam the information that I've already given to the automated system (Another thing of absolute joy! and invention of Satan) and after she gets the patient information on her screen, I tell her my problem.They’ve incorrectly denied two procedures that were performed.

Pam Reads her script, which is exactly what is written on the explanation of benefits that I have in front of me.

Me: Pam, I’ve already read that on the explanation of benefits. I’m calling to tell you that the two denied codes are separate from the primary code and the modifiers indicate that.

Pam: It says that the denied codes are related to the primary code and not payable.

Me: No, the two denied codes are separate procedures as indicated by the modifiers.

Pam: Hold please.

Holding, listening to a propaganda tape about United Healthcare and how wonderful they are. Over and over and over. Pam finally comes back.

Pam: There are no modifiers on the claim.

Me: Pam, I’m looking at the claim and the modifiers are there.

Pam: We would need the modifiers to research and have the denied charges reviewed.

Me: Then look at the claim, the modifiers are there.

Pam: The two denied codes are related to the primary procedure.

Now my patience has come to an end. Pam is delighted to be making .25 an hour and proud of her ability to phonetically read an English script. I am royally pissed off because Pam isn’t the only person in India I’ve spoken to today. Now the real fun begins.

Me: I want to speak to a supervisor. I want to speak to a supervisor in the United States that speaks English.

Pam (indignantly): I speak English!

Me: No, you don’t. You’re able to read from a script that you’ve been given and you speak THAT. You don’t understand English and what I’m saying to you. I want a supervisor, NOW!

Pam (cursing me under her breath in her language): Hold please. “click” and I’m now disconnected. Fifteen minutes of my life gone. I redial the number hoping that I’ll wind up in queue with a U.S. Representative. Odds of that, 10 to one, not in my favor.

I'm not making a political and/or social statement. I have no solutions or answers. I'm just a frustrated office worker trying to do her job without getting so annoyed that I blow an aneurysm. Am I being politically incorrect and bigoted, yes. Yes, I am. It's my blog and I'm ranting. So there! Outsourcing is so epidemic that there's a TV sit-com about it. Apparently no one who's ever had to make a call for service that has been outsourced is watching it because like the commercial, they don't think it's really funny.

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About me

This is a blog by a woman in her 50's who is finally on the crooked path to find who she truly is.
Married at 19 and divorced at 53. I am going to unearth the artist, the cynic, the free spirit that has been long buried. Or die trying.
I've left Bethlehem
and I feel free...
I've left the girl I was supposed to be
and some day I'll be born.
~Paula Cole